Discussion – Multihulls or Monohulls

From Latitude 38 (http://www.latitude38.com/letters/19905.htm) – this page is no longer available

— MULTIHULLS VERSUS MONOHULLS

Your recent issues have had some very interesting and informative articles about the effect of severe weather on both cruising and racing boats. Follow-up articles have provided various perspectives on how to avoid and/or try to survive big winds and big waves. The focus — or at least what seems to be the applied focus — of these articles has been on monohulls.

I was wondering if there is any related information for multihulls. For example, how would a modern 35 to 45-foot cruising multihull fare in these conditions compared to a modern 35 to 45-foot cruising monohull? Would the storm survival techniques be similar? Does the wider beam of a multihull make it more prone or less prone to being capsized in large waves?

It seems that one advantage that many multihulls may have is that even if swamped or capsized, they may not be as prone to sinking — although trying to hold onto the overturned hulls of a multihull in 30-foot breaking seas doesn’t necessarily seem like a better alternative to being in a liferaft launched from a sinking monohull.

As the popularity of multihulls appears to be growing both among cruisers and in charter fleets, any comments on this subject would be of interest to a respectable percentage of the sailing community.

Andy Kopania
Catalina 22
Folsom Lake

Andy — During the first week of June ’94, approximately 35 boats took off from New Zealand for Tonga or Fiji. For 72 hours during the middle of the 1,000-mile voyage, many of them were caught in what meteorologists call a ‘bomb’, which is simply a low pressure system — be it a depression, cyclone, or low — in which the central pressure falls at least .7 of an inch in 24 hours. The result was that 1.25 million square miles of the South Pacific were hit with 35-knot (gale force) winds while 234,000 square miles had 50-knot (storm force) winds. According to various crews, SAR pilots, and ship captains, vessels in the storm’s core area experienced winds as high as 100 knots and seas — and we know this sounds preposterous — of between 40 and 100 feet. In other words, this was a more severe storm than last November’s ‘Nightmare Off New Zealand’.

It’s unclear exactly how many boats were caught in the core of the June ’94 storm, but nine boats with a total of 24 crew issued maydays. One boat and her three crew were never seen again. Seven other boats with 17 crew were eventually rescued. One boat rescinded her mayday and made it to port under her own power. What should make the Queen’s Birthday Storm story so interesting to you, Andy, is that two of the nine boats that issued maydays were catamarans; one a homebuilt 39-footer, the other a Catalac 41. In addition, there was a third catamaran, a 39-footer, on the periphery of the core. The following is a quick rundown of all nine boats, their crews, and what happened to each of them.

Quartermaster, a 40-ft New Zealand sloop with an experienced husband, wife, and son crew: After reporting that she had been rolled or severely knocked down a number of times, the crew set off their EPIRB. Once that happened, they were never seen or heard from again. Ultimately, the only trace of the boat or her crew was an empty liferaft — with indications that at least one person had been inside.

Destiny, a U.S.-based Norseman 447 (45 feet) with a husband and wife crew who had 20,000 ocean miles: They ran with bare poles dragging a Sea Squid drogue, which seemed to work, even down the face of 50-foot waves in as much as 80 knots of wind. Then suddenly the boat went airborne, free-falling bow first for an estimated 70 feet to begin a pitchpole followed by a 360º roll. When the boat righted herself, the skipper was badly injured and the mast was permanently wrapped around the hull. The crew was later rescued through the heroic efforts of the skipper and crew of the ship Tui Cakau. Despite being bashed repeatedly by the eight-story tall ship, Destiny floated — her mast still banging against her hull — for six months until she washed up in the Banks Islands of Vanuatu. She was stripped and burned by locals.

Pilot, a Maine-based Westsail 32 cutter, with a very experienced crew of two: After several knockdowns, the boat was rolled. Then, while running with quartering seas, a huge wave washed the mast away. The only boat without an EPIRB, Pilot was miraculously spotted by an airplane looking for other boats. Although suffering from hypothermia, the crew battled the boat’s inherent tendency to go beam to the breaking seas. Accepting a rescue offer from a ship, the skipper took a knife to the sink thru-hull, scuttling the vessel he’d lived on and cruised for six years. The two crew ultimately blamed exhaustion — brought on in a large part by what they felt was the Westsail’s poorly-designed cockpit — for having to give up.

Sofia, a New Zealand-based Atkin 32-ft double-ended cutter with a crew of two, one experienced, one not: After trying to run with the seas using a long rope as a drogue, the skipper decided to close the boat up, go below, and wait it out. This worked for awhile, but then the boat was rolled. After a second roll the boat stayed inverted for “what seemed like an eternity”, dismasting the boat and leaving the skipper temporarily unconscious. The French transport ship Jacques Cartier eventually rescued Sofia’s crew, as some brave men risked their lives in an inflatable to effect the rescue. One even got into the raging sea in case either of the two victims fell overboard! The captain of the French ship was instructed to shoot the boat out of the water, but based on political considerations relating to the French sabotage of Rainbow Warrior, decided not to. Six months to the day later, Sofia was found 230 miles to the north of her abandoned position, her anchor having snagged the bottom. The owner, who was in the process of building a smaller boat with donated materials, towed Sofia back to Auckland and put her up for sale.

Mary T., a U.S.-based Offshore 40 yawl with a crew of four very experienced offshore sailors: She lost her steering and ended up lying beam to the seas. Even with four reefs in the main and full power from the diesel, the crew was unable to bring her head to wind. She took in lots of water through cockpit hatches and lost her steering. But after stabilizing the situation, she called off the mayday, and using a quadruple reefed main for power and a steering vane to steer, made it to Fiji. Subsequently, they continued on to the Indian Ocean.

Silver Shadow, a 42-foot cold-molded racer/cruiser from New Zealand with a very experienced offshore crew of four: Even when the wind was blowing 50 knots and the seas were 40 feet high, the crew was confident. In fact, they were happily sailing along at eight knots under a triple-reefed main and a storm jib. Suddenly, however, an unseen wave rolled the boat, dismasting her. They crew still figured they could effect a jury rig and make the islands on their own. It wasn’t until the dismasted boat was rolled again and some crew were seriously injured that they decided to set off their EPIRB. Despite repeated efforts with a sea anchor made from a balled up jib and mizzen created from a reaching strut lashed to a pulpit, they only occasionally were able to get the bow into the seas. They also fashioned an emergency rudder. Eventually, they were rescued by the crew of the ship Monowai, which used a 20-foot inflatable for the transfer. It nearly cost the rescuers their lives. Several months later Silver Shadow was spotted 250 miles east of Noumea, but was then lost again. After five months she was seen on a reef 200 miles north of Vila, Vanuatu; the locals were dancing on her, having apparently enjoyed the 12 bottles of rum that had been left behind.

Waikiwi II, a 44-foot sloop from New Zealand with a very experienced crew of five: She was pitchpoled, dismasted during a knockdown, and lost her rudder. Her crew was ultimately saved by the ship Nomadic Duchess. Some of the crew were rescued on the first pass, while others had to wait for a second pass. During the second pass, the ship collided heavily with the boat, holing her, and thus ending any hopes of having her towed to safety.

Five things stand out from the experience of the seven monohulls: 1) Despite all efforts, it was virtually impossible to keep the boats from ending up beam-to the seas, which resulted in five of the boats being repeatedly knocked down or rolled. 2) Despite trailing drogues, two of the boats pitchpoled. 3) No matter if the seven monohulls pitchpoled or rolled, all of them lost their masts. 4) As a result of the pitchpoles, knockdowns, and rollovers, many of the crews suffered serious injuries. 4) Having a ship come alongside to effect a rescue was extremely difficult and dangerous for everyone involved. 5) Perhaps the most amazing thing is how well the seven boats held up to the unthinkably horrible conditions; had it not been for scuttling or collisions with rescuing ships, six of them would have continued to float. The age-old admonition to never leave a boat until it’s underwater would seem as true as ever.

Now for the catamarans:

Ramtha, a 38-foot Roger Simpson designed modern-style catamaran from Australia, with a husband and wife crew with five years of coastal cruising experience and some offshore experience: The crew had set a drogue several days before the storm to fix her steering, but had to cut it loose when they were unable to pull it back up. Ultimately, they found themselves in 70 knots of wind and 40 foot seas, conditions so bad that the 4,000-ton ship Monowai, coming to their rescue, rolled as much as 48º in each direction, injuring three of her crew. Despite four reefs, Ramtha’s main blew to shreds and her steering system became inoperable. With nothing but her twin engines available for maneuvering, being aboard her was like “going down a mountain in a wooden box” or being on a “roller coaster that never stopped.” The boat slid down waves forward, sideways, and backwards. Several times it seemed as though she might flip, but she never did. Ultimately, Monowai shot a line to Ramtha’s crew, but missed. While the line gun was being reloaded, Ramtha’s crew began to get strong second thoughts about leaving the boat, feeling he was doing fine on her own despite being crippled. Nonetheless, they attached their harnesses when the second line landed on their boat, and were dragged several hundred feet — often underwater — to and up the side of the ship. After abandoning the cat, the owners gave her up for lost. A week or so later, they were stunned to learn that the boat had been found — upright and in surprisingly good shape! After settling a salvage claim with another yachtie, they eventually sailed her back to Oz where they began rebuilding the cruising kitty.

Heart Light, a 41-foot Catalac U.S.-based catamaran with a crew of four; a husband and wife couple with 16,000 ocean miles, and two crew with no offshore experience: Despite having 16,000 miles ocean experience, the captain and wife claimed to have not steered the boat except near the dock and to have never jibed between the States and New Zealand. Heart Light was a heavy, solid fiberglass, narrow catamaran. Nevertheless, she did reasonably well, surfing at between 6 and 13 knots while dragging a drogue. When the autopilot couldn’t handle it any longer, the skipper finally learned how to steer, working desperately to prevent waves from slewing the stern in front of the bow. Eventually, both engines went down and lines fouled both rudders. They tied off the helm to port and slid sideways down waves. Despite being “captapulted” through the air on many occasions and being knocked onto one hull several other times, she endured. When the rescue ship arrived, her captain noted that the boat “appeared seaworthy and was riding comfortably in the improved weather.” When the captain said he couldn’t tow the boat, Heart Light’s first mate, a New Age visionary, talked the ship’s captain into a weird agreement: they would only allow themselves to be rescued if he promised to ram Heart Light until she sank. The woman’s theory was that the sinking boat would be a lighthouse guiding the forces of good through seven layers of reality into our currently evil world. Something like that — and yes, she wrote a book. The ship’s captain complied, and Heart Light sank after being rammed several times.

The third catamaran, a 40-footer, carried a deeply reefed main and furled jib in slightly lighter conditions outside of the core. She experienced no serious problems.

There are several interesting things about the two catamarans in the core area of the storm: 1) Neither of them pitchpoled; 2) Neither of them flipped — although the crews thought they came close; 3) Neither of them were dismasted; 4) Both of them apparently would have survived — by surfing forwards, sideways, and backwards — had they just been left alone.

Does this mean that multihulls are actually safer in very severe weather than monohulls? We — who own both a monohull and a catamaran — certainly wouldn’t leap to that conclusion. After all, there were several other monohulls in the core area of the storm that didn’t even issue maydays and survived the storm with very little damage. And while it’s much too small a sample on which to base any firm conclusions on, the performance of the catamarans in the storm nonetheless had some influence on our deciding to build a cat for our next charterboat.

By the way, most of the factual information presented above comes from Rescue In The Pacific, a well-written and well-documented account of the Queen’s Birthday Storm by Tony Farrington. The book is still in print, and can be obtained whereever you normally buy marine titles. We can’t recommend it highly enough for anyone planning to go offshore. The ‘what we’d do next time’ advice is particularly valuable. Had it been followed, perhaps not so many lives would have been lost off New Zealand last November.

For another account of a production multihull battling very severe weather, contact Cruising World for a reprint of an article by Phillipe Jeantot — winner of the first several modern singlehanded around the world races in multihulls — wrote several years ago. Jeantot delivered his new custom cruising Privilege 48 catamaran from France to the Canaries with a delivery crew, and from the Canaries to the Caribbean with just his wife and two infant children. On both legs they had to battle severe weather. Given Jeantot’s impeccable credentials, it meant something that he gave the boat such good reviews. However, the reviews must also be tempered by the fact that Privileges are built by a company called Jeantot Marine.

On the other side of the multihull fence is sailing legend Sir Peter Blake, who ironically enough, established a new Jules Verne around-the-world record with the catamaran Enza. While Blake said Enza was a sensational boat in extreme weather, he contends that multihulls are not suitable for cruising.

Regarding a preference between having to bail out of a sinking monohull into a liferaft versus trying to cling to a flipped multihull in raging seas: The survivors of the eight boats listed above pretty much seemed to agree that getting into a liferaft at the height of the storm would have been impossible and in any event a death sentence. The fact that only one of the boats sank on its own is more evidence that getting into a liferaft should be the ultimate last resort. Indeed, when Quicksilver’s liferaft was spotted, it was bouncing over the water almost like a beach ball.

Staying with an upturned multihull is usually not as bad as it might sound. In 1993, the trimaran Rose Noelle flipped between New Zealand and Tonga, and her crew survived on her for five months. When finally found, they were in such fine condition that many accused them of having pulled a prank. There’s also the famous case of Rich Wilson and Bill Biewenga, who flipped the trimaran Great American in the process of trying to set a San Francisco to Boston record. They were quite happy to be inside the inverted boat off South America, as it was more stable than right side up. Alas, the huge seas flipped the tri back up! The production cats of the recent past have mostly been designed for charter work and therefore are quite heavy and have relatively small sail plans. In the unlikely event you could flip one, the habitation space would probably be quite habitable. But that’s not true with all cats. About 10 years ago, the then already old cat Atalanta flipped in bad weather off Mexico. The two crew nearly died of exposure.

If you’re looking for a book on the basics of multihull design, we recommend Chris White’s The Cruising Multihull. He writes all about the effects of hull shape, beam, length, length-to-beam, and other factors that effect multihull performance.

We apologize for our long answer, but hope it was informative.